In the Face of Destruction
by Maddz4Hetalia
Summary: FULL SUMMARY INSIDE Francis and Alice are married, but when Alice starts to get selfish, everything goes downhill. FrUK, Fem!England, colonial times, Americest.


**Full Summary: **England and France are having issues in their relationship together, and finally, England just can't take it any longer. She breaks up with France and takes America, leaving him with Canada, and it's only afterwards that she realizes that she desperately wants her other son as well. After seven year custody battle, she takes Canada back, but America can't handle being under the controlling thumb of his mother and strikes out, declaring independence for himself and his twin brother. Will centuries of silent seething force them further apart, or will it drive them together? Lemons, Fem!England, FrUK, twincest, USCan, _not _shota.

**Author's Note: **I know I'm still writing Perfectly Broken, but… I've got more story ideas, and Perfectly Broken in a fucking long assed story, so I'm getting my other ideas down on paper. Or the computer. Whatever.

This story will probably be short, no more than ten chapters…

Oh, and there's a lemon in this chapter. Just so you know.

And no, I'm not going to put warnings in the story for you more sensitive readers. I told you at the beginning that there will be lemons, and the story is rated M for a reason. For mature readers. *Cough cough* And those readers who are very immature and love these lemon scenes… Like myself.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters, but I do own the plot and all OC's. There will be lemons, or sex scenes to those of you who don't know what a lemon is, and cursing, and it is mostly het. Not yaoi.

**Chapter One:**

"I can't _believe _you!" Alice shrieked, her fists angrily crumpling her apron before she smoothed it back down. Her pigtails were lopsided, showing just how disorganized she was feeling that day. Her apron and dress were both perfectly ironed and clean, if a little dusty from cleaning that day, but the bruise-like circles under her eyes spoke of countless sleepless nights and a struggle to keep her stress levels down.

"Angleterre, please, calm yourself," Francis cooed, his fingers running lightly over her angrily flushed cheek. "Mon petite Matthieu wants to come with me, and I don't know why your so angry over it."

Alice glared up at the Frenchman, smacking his hand away with an irritated huff. "Don't use that again," she hissed. "Touching me like that will get you no where." Francis sighed in agitation, but sat down on the straw bed and waited to hear what his wife had to say. "I want Matthew for myself. Okay? He's my son too and you can't just take him away from me! Plus, he was mine much before he was yours. You just waltzed right in and took him!"

"But we _share _him, remember? He's _our _child." Francis stood again and pressed a feather light kiss to Alice's forehead. "I can't help that a lot of my people are settling into his land, okay? I just can't help it. Maybe if you let them also settle into America, they would allow your people to move up to Canada."

"No way!" Alice shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. "America is _mine. _No way am I going to let your filthy people take up his land."

Francis ran a hand through his shoulder-length blonde hair, closing his eyes and counting to ten backward to keep from slapping his wife. He was many things, but a wife-beater wasn't about to be one of them. "You're being a bit hypocritical… You want my people to allow your people to move in to Canada, but you will not allow them to move down to America, correct?"

"Exactly."

"There's nothing I can do. If you do not want to compromise, we can't do anything." With a sigh of defeat, he crushed his lips to Alice's, wrapping his arms around her thin waist. This was his last resort. Sex was always his last resort. If he couldn't win, sex would distract her long enough for him to think of something. And as much as Alice fought in the beginning, she could never say no to a good fuck. In these times, she didn't have the time for sex, so when the situation presented itself, she would never say no.

Alice pushed on Francis's chest, knowing exactly what he was trying to do, but as she felt his lips move slowly and gently against hers, she realized that she was craving this. Francis didn't particularly want the quick fucking that they usually did. He wanted slow love making that lasted and would keep both of them busy, and Alice craved it. Her body craved sex as much as her mind craved this kind of love, and Francis was offering. As much as the Frenchman annoyed her, she loved him and probably always would.

"Stop," she whispered, but their lips were still touching and Francis turned the words into another kiss. Alice made a soft noise, wrapping her arms slowly around Francis's neck and pulling him toward the bed. She was giving in now. She wanted this more than anything, and it was better this way than what would happen if she said no. She'd just end up yelling at him for a few minutes longer before she ended up going somewhere else to touch herself, since she'd denied it to Francis.

Francis immediately picked her up by the waist, carrying her to the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist with a gentle grace that only she could ever possess. Out of all the women Francis had been with over the years as a country, Alice was the best. They often said that Englishwomen made the worst lovers, and as vanilla as the sex could get, Alice also knew how to fuck like the best of them. Francis had seen her offer herself in the strangest, most exciting positions, as well as just laying on her back and spreading her legs. She always knew how to get him going and what he wanted, and he was always able to pleasure her in return.

Alice was sure that Francis was the best lover she'd ever had. He was one of the few that could bring her to an orgasm, and the only one that could do it every single time. Francis was a perfect mate, really, and as terrible as he was as a husband and country, he was amazing in bed and it almost made up for it.

She slowly ground against his hipbone, their lips still locked in a way that made her wonder if they'd ever come up for air. Francis rolled his hips against her in a way that made her breath catch, her eyes opening slightly to find his blue orbs wide and watching her. She broke the kiss just long enough to whisper a soft, "I fucking love you, frog."

Francis smiled a bit in return, kissing her again before he murmured, "And je t'aime trop."

Alice was laid down on the bed, her dress and apron riding up her legs just a bit to flash a creamy white thigh. Francis sighed in want, moving down the bed to press feather-light kisses to her soft thighs. The Englishwoman's breath caught slightly, her delicate hands moving to hitch her dress up just a bit higher. "Use your tongue on me, please," she whispered, and Francis chuckled softly at her impatience.

"Soon, mon amour," he whispered, his breath tickling her leg. Alice huffed in exasperation, sitting up and untying her apron with skilled fingers.

"Stupid frog," she muttered, pulling her apron off and tossing it aside. She then began working on getting her dress off. Soon enough, she had the dress over her head and she was tossing it aside, not even bothering to fold it like she usually would.

Francis wrinkled his nose; Alice was just wearing her cotton underwear, not the silk lace lingerie he'd bought her and brought from Paris. He supposed that this was more sensible to wear on a day like this, since it was just her cleaning day. Maybe if they planned when to have sex, she'd start wearing the sexy underwear more often… As much as he loved Alice, she had very little womanish curves; she was more like a stick than an hourglass. So, she should do as much as she can to make herself look sexier and mature. And in Francis's mind, silk, lacy lingerie was perfect for that.

With a soft murmur of disapproval, Francis began to nip and nibble the inside of Alice's creamy thigh. The Brit froze for a moment, her breath catching, before she continued undressing. She kicked her shoes off, then her socks, forcing Francis to stop, and after her brassiere was removed, Francis stopped his assault on her thighs. He'd left three hickies, Alice noticed with distaste. Those always hurt afterward.

Francis moved his attack with his tongue and lips to her snowy breasts, which were now bared to him. His lips moved lightly over the pale flesh just above her right breast, his kisses as light as butterfly wings against her chest. She wrapped her arms around him, her eyes fluttering closed and her long eyelashes resting gracefully against her cheek. Her breathing was slow and even, almost as if she was sleeping, but the slight catches every once in a while in her breath told Francis that he was doing anything but putting her to sleep.

Finally, his lips traveled further down, capturing the pert bud of her nipple with his lips. A soft moan was drawn from her lips, making Francis shiver with anticipation. His fingers expertly moved down the flat plain of her stomach to the edge of her underwear, and his fingers dipped under the cotton edge. His fingers slipped between her folds, lightly rubbing against her clitoris as he continued sucking on her nipple. Alice moaned a bit louder, her back arching slightly and her legs twitching.

After a few minutes of making Alice squirm under his touch, Francis pulled away from the swollen nipple and removed his slightly damp fingers from her underwear. The space didn't last long, though, as he pulled her underwear down and tossed it away, then crawled back down between her legs and ran his tongue over her thigh, very close to her womanhood. Alice bit her lip, watching Francis with wanting eyes. Sometimes, she had a feeling that she liked this much more than intercourse. Alice had a feeling that the love making would have to wait- this would be fucking at its best.

Francis's tongue finally touched where she needed him most; the wet muscle slid over her clitoris, causing Alice to moan loudly, her hips to buck up, and her legs to tremble. His tongue moved again, touching her exactly in the same way, and she cried out in pleasure. "A-ah!" She breathed, her head tipping back. Francis's stubble felt strange, almost painful, against her like that, but she didn't mind terribly.

He continued to lick her clitoris and nothing else, but after a few minutes, he grew bored, so he slid a finger into Alice's dripping entrance. She hardly reacted, her breath just hitched, but he inserted a second finger and curled the fingers upward, slowly thrusting them into her. Alice's back arched, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he followed the action with another lick. "B-bloody hell!" She cried, breathing raggedly as Francis thrust his finger into her even faster.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She moaned, her body trembling with want and the need to release. Only ten minutes in, with Francis pounding three fingers into her, her back arched and her orgasm hit her, sending her flying into bliss. "Francis!" She cried, and Francis smirked. He felt her cum with his fingers, and he stopped thrusting them so hard. But, he continued to slowly move them inside her, watching her with a small smile of victory and want.

"My turn," he murmured, and without further ado, he removed his own clothes and positioned himself at Alice's opening. Alice's body was still shuddering and trembling, but Francis knew that she was up for another round. Actually, he knew that Alice wasn't even really satisfied; he knew for a fact that Alice was a squirter, and she hadn't squirt at all when she'd orgasmed. It must have just been a clitoral orgasm, then. Vaginal orgasms are much more powerful.

Alice shook her head frantically, practically sobbing. "N-no, no! I'm not ready, I can't-" She was cut off as Francis slammed into her, sending her into a sobbing mess of bliss and pleasure. She was trying to tell him that she was still too sensitive, and that him inside her would send her over the edge all over again. And it did. She was cumming against Francis's cock, her vaginal walls clenching and twitching around his throbbing erection. The feeling was almost enough to get him to cum as well, but he didn't. He began pounding recklessly into her, sending her into hysterics as she began to squirt out a clear fluid, ruining the sheets of the bed.

Her orgasm made her even more sensitive, though, and Francis pounding into her like this wasn't helping. She cried out for him to stop long enough for her to calm down, but he kept going, even went a little faster and harder. Her body twitched and spasmed as the pleasure drowned out every other thought she could have had. The only thing she could even say any more was, "Fuck me, fuck me harder!" And Francis listened, sending her into a euphoric almost-seizure, her body twitching and jerking as Francis continued.

Only a few minutes later, Alice was cumming again, squirting all over the sheets and Francis and herself, and Francis finally came as well, filling her to the brim with his sticky seed. Alice screamed in pleasurable bliss, holding Francis close as they both panted and gasped raggedly for air.

Francis smirked; Alice was thoroughly distracted. Everything would be fine as long as she stayed that way…

"Mom and Papa are so gross," Alfred whined, his feet kicking uselessly at the dirt of the playground. Matthew shrugged, looking back at his twin from his place on the swing. Alfred was pushing him, since Matthew had trouble getting high enough.

"Papa calls it love making," he said, his voice soft, as always. "It shows how much they love each other. That's what they were doing."

"They didn't even notice us!" Alfred continued, as if completely oblivious to what his brother was saying. He gave the quieter twin a good push, sending him a few feet higher and making him squeak in surprise.

"They were a bit busy, Al," Matthew reminded him, and Alfred snorted.

They both fell quiet when there was a cry of surprise and a thud; Matthew had fall out of the swing. "Mattie!" Alfred gasped, running to his twin and kneeling beside him. "You alright? That was a long fall!"

"Please quit shouting, Al," Matthew murmured, wincing and holding his head. There was a small cut in his forehead, but it wasn't anything serious.

Alfred nodded, smiling sheepishly. "Oops, sorry, bro~"

Matthew leaned up and shyly kissed his brother's cheek. "It's okay, Alfred."

They both blushed, fiddling with their hands. Both appeared to be about ten years old, though they were both much older than that. The day before, they'd found out how much they really felt for each other; not as brothers, but as romantic interests. Matthew had confessed his crush, and Alfred had confessed his crush afterward, and now they were both much closer to each other. They loved each other. They were twins, and Alfred could feel it when Matthew got hurt, and Matthew could sense when Alfred was getting angry when they weren't even in the same house. They were connected like no one else, and their countries were so close…

"Mama wants you for herself," Alfred whispered, grabbing Matthew's hand and intertwining their pudgy fingers. "She doesn't want Papa to have you at all… But I know you love Papa, so I'll do what I can to keep her in her place, okay?"

Matthew blinked in surprise, looking at Alfred with slightly scared eyes. "I-I don't wanna just be Mama's… I want Papa!"

"I know, Mattie," Alfred murmured, brushing a strand of hair back from his brother's face. "Don't worry, I'll be your hero. I promise."

The Canadian twin stared at his American brother for a few moments before leaning up- Alfred was just a bit taller- and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Thank you," he whispered, and they both blushed bright red before Alfred broke the embarrassed silence.

"Let's play tag! You're it!"


End file.
